


Torn and Frayed (Prologue)

by Anarchyandcigarettes (anarchyandcigarettes)



Series: Torn and Frayed [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Psychologists & Psychiatrists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 21:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1794337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchyandcigarettes/pseuds/Anarchyandcigarettes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to his incident and fleeting memory, Castiel is left in the care of a psychiatric hospital. What he can recount is addressed in letters to Dean Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torn and Frayed (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a prologue to a story I've kinda had floating around in my head.

 

                Castiel shifted awkwardly in the hard plastic seat he had been assigned to, the stiffness of the brand new scrub bottoms causing him distress. He squinted under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, his once azure blue eyes seemed to have clouded over, leaving a dull grey in its wake. Lined with bags heavy enough to weigh down any soul that looked upon him, it was apparent that this was the disheveled appearance of a broken man. Weeks of sleepless nights and lack of appetite had swallowed his cheeks, leaving them as hallow as his eyes, the neglected stubble enhancing the depth of the shadows.

                “Castiel,” He rose his gaze slowly. “Follow me.” The nurse with red hair directed, turning quickly, but not so hastily that Castiel could not read the tag that hung above the breast pocket of her uniform that read Naomi. He stood, bones aching with malnutrition, and tugged at the strings around his waist. His hips protruded from the cloth that hung loosely on his tiny frame, the white cotton teeshirt appearing as if it could swallow him whole. Castiel swayed momentarily, the bottom of his socks losing traction on the speckled cream tile. Naomi walked slowly, keeping sight of Castiel at all times, she led him to a room where a sign reading Nurses Station hung. Naomi cautiously led him to the cot, guiding him to sit as she washed her hands and applied gloves. Castiel’s eyes seemed to finally focus as she reached for his hands, gingerly prying the notebook from his grip. He felt as if a piece of him was being slowly stripped away. Castiel parted his dry, cracked lips as if to speak before inhaling sharply as a cold cloth was pressed to his knuckles. Was that blood? He was so tired. Silence filled the room as Naomi tended to the wounds that littered Castiel’s once perfect hands. She apologized numerous times as she scrubbed at the dried blood that seemed to have made its way to the tips of his fingers before ceasing movement. Naomi reached into the drawer to her left; removing ace bandages from it to wrap Castiel’s shaking hands. He reached for the notebook once more, tracing the dried blood with his fingertips.

                That night Naomi lead him to his room, bidding him goodnight as she slid a small pencil into his open palm that lay limp next to his body. Castiel padded across the room, ears tuning in on the seemingly deafening sound of the heavy metal door sliding shut. The frame of his cot barely made a sound as he slid between the sheets. He reached for the cord that hung near the top of the bed, tugging weakly as moonlight flooded the room. Against the wall opposite to his own, a sandy blonde haired boy stirred.

                “Cas?” He whispered groggily, voice thick with sleep. He raised an arm to shield his face from the intrusion of light.

                “Go back to sleep, Balthazar.” Castiel whispered lightly as he settled back into the cot and reached for the desk that lay between the two. Balthazar grunted in agreement as the faint sound of graphite scratching against paper filled the room.

 

_Dear Dean,_


End file.
